“Oh.” She glanced at the journal again. “I’m not sure what suits me.”
“I can think of a few,” I said softly, eyes dropping to her collarbone, shoulders, and arms. “I could paint them, if you like.”
“Doesn’t seem like there’s much point.” She chuckled sadly, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. “We might die trying to get into the Acheron and almost certainly won’t return from it.”
Percy interjected, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I thought you decided to live, while you still could?”
“I . . . guess I did.”
“Let Seth pick one then,” he ordered, returning to the bed.
“What are you doing back there?” I called.
“You’ll see,” he sang.
The next hour passed over the course of a lifetime. Had anyone else been working on my arm, I might’ve dozed, but Aethra’s presence was electric, and my thoughts dimmed into silence when I met her gaze.
Percy leaned over my shoulders, dangling a pair of earrings over my chest. “What do you think, Aethra?”
Snorting, she glanced between my pecs, probably imagining jewelry dangling from them. She shook her head and returned to her work.
“I swear to the gods, Percy,” I said. “Don’t youdare. "
“Aw. How about the eyebrow?” He held it up, modeling.
“No.”
“Pff. Just boring old ears then,” he muttered.
Mouth warbling, Aethra ran a thumb over my eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
My resolve shattered, seeing her envision it longingly. “Well, maybe I’ll think about it.”
Percy snorted into his jewelry box.
Rising, Aethra wiped off the needle. “Done,” she announced.
Lifting my arm, I studied the finished work, though it still stung. Wings stretched up and down my right forearm, wrapping around me like a shield.
Percy hauled me from the chair and spun me around. “Arms out. Stand still.”
I sighed. “I can dress myself.”
Percy wrung his hands. “If you ever loved me, Seth, just let me have this.”
“Fine,” I muttered, glancing at Whisper, who lay on the bed. “Don’t look, boy. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Pff.” Percy snorted. “No wonder they named you after a character from a play. Here.” He tossed Aethra a bracer. “Help me with this.”
Aethra slipped it onto my left arm and set to tying the leather threads. With her standing so close again, my attention focused on her every movement—every brush of her fingers against my skin. Percy was doing something, pushing and pulling me intoplace and fidgeting with something or other, but he might as well have been a ghost.
Aethra smoothed down my sleeve and stepped away. And I, stupid and dazed, grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“What?” She asked.
I gazed at her, eyebrows drawn together, unable to speak.
Months ago, when we’d sheltered in that cavern, pressed together in the cold . . . I should have walked away and never looked back.
